


Hollow

by SilverQueen77



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Quest: Protect Clan Lavellan, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:14:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8677879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverQueen77/pseuds/SilverQueen77
Summary: She couldn’t break down here. There were too many eyes, too many ears, too many people who weren’t her people. She had to hold it in just a little longer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into Dragon Age fanfiction. While it broke my heart, this story was so much fun to write! If you're interested in listening to the musical inspiration for this piece, I had the following two songs from Game of Thrones on repeat the whole time I was writing.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pS-gbqbVd8c&index=51&list=PLSHx9WGDnLYjaTCZ8Muckku2azQRtH2em  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYw-LnLnYgI&index=52&list=PLSHx9WGDnLYjaTCZ8Muckku2azQRtH2em

_Da'len,_

_I know not whether this will reach you. The Duke of Wycome is dead, and the soldiers of Wycome blame us. All the elves in the city have been killed, blamed for some plague that only strikes down humans. Now they hunt us as well._

_Most of the clan is already dead._

_Live well, da'len. You carry Clan Lavellan with you. They are coming for us._

No.

No.

This couldn't be real.

Aenea drug her eyes from the bloodstained parchment and met Leliana’s careful gaze, desperately searching for evidence to contradict the truth in her hands.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss, Inquisitor.”

No.

Aenea looked back at the hastily scrawled missive.

_Most of the clan is already dead._

Leliana was still speaking but her words fell on deaf ears. Aenea’s hands were trembling and it was becoming difficult to pull air into her lungs. 

_They are coming for us._

She closed her eyes to escape the sight of Deshanna’s blood, but it was a mistake. Her mind began crafting images of the scene. The keeper standing quickly from her desk and turning to face the enemy seconds before an ax embedded itself in her chest. Her blood spurting out around the blade, painting the letter as the ax was tugged free. Her body slumped over the edge of the desk before sliding down to the floor. Souren letting loose arrow after arrow, hitting his mark every time and putting up a valiant fight until he reached for an arrow that wasn’t there. A soldier taking advantage of the moment and driving a sword into his gut, twisting it just to see a look of agony flash across his stunned face. His body hitting the ground with a thud like the animals they used to hunt. Leena attempting to run, a soldier snatching her back by her long white hair—

“No.” It was a growl that barely escaped her suddenly tight throat.

Before Leliana could say another word Aenea was running. Her anger was fire in her veins even as icy horror slid down her spine and settled in her gut. A vice was tightening around her chest and a scream was building in her lungs, bubbling up and filling her throat and threatening to tear its way out of her any second. She couldn’t break down here. There were too many eyes, too many ears, too many people who weren’t her people. She had to hold it in just a little longer. A few called out to her as she passed but she kept running, clenching the parchment in her fist and blinking hard to keep her vision clear.

Her years of running through the forest and jumping from tree to tree were to thank for her not breaking her neck as she ran full speed down the stairs out of the castle, but she couldn’t think about the ones who used to run and jump and laugh with her.

“Open the gates,” she yelled as she approached the entrance of the fortress. The guards started to question why she was leaving alone but a sharp glare and sharper “Now!” shut them up and sent them scrambling.

She kept running until she couldn’t see the fortress, couldn’t hear the sounds of life that seemed to mock all those that had been lost. Aenea didn’t know how long she ran; only that the burn in her legs and frigid air lashing at her bare arms and face gave her something to focus on other than the emotions just waiting to overwhelm her. Once she could no longer hear the shouts of training and clanging of swords she collapsed in the snow and let out the scream that had threatened to consume her. It went on and on, raw and primal and saying everything words would never be able to express.

This scene was all too familiar. Aenea remembered well the feeling of burning alive while also being ripped apart from the inside out. She remembered screaming like this once before. It had been eleven years, but it seemed like only yesterday that she held her father’s body in her arms. His death had been her fault and she thought she’d never be able to live with the guilt and pain that came with his loss. But this, this was so much worse than even her darkest nightmares.

Her entire clan, her best friend, they were all dead. Because of an order she gave. She murdered every last one of them. Her sister—

Aenea’s breathing was fast and shallow and getting more difficult by the minute. She fell forward; hands plunged into the snow to support her. Some small part of her hoped the cold would sooth the fire raging within her.

The snow. It was the color of Leena’s hair. Suddenly Aenea saw her sister lying on the ground in front of her. One arm was twisted under her body and the other stretched up above her head. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo and her silver eyes were dull, staring blindly at the sky above them. Her mouth was open in a silent scream; her lips and chin stained red from blood that gurgled out during her final gasping breaths. It was a stark contrast to her now colorless skin. Her throat had been slashed; her neck and chest coated with thick blood that oozed out of the fresh wound. It soaked into the fabric of her dress and pooled on the ground beneath her. Aenea was unable to look away as the pool grew steadily larger, intent on corrupting everything that was pure and good and right. A metallic smell was heavy in the air, as if the blood drenched specter in front of her were real. 

Leena.

Bile worked its way up her throat and she heaved a few times before letting loose another scream that devolved into frantic, gasping sobs. Her keening wracked her entire body and her grief swelled suddenly. She was full of it; her skin stretched taught as it tried to break lose all at once. There was a rock next to her hand and she threw it with all her strength.

Yes. That was good. A fraction of her grief flew away with that rock.

She searched for more rocks to throw. She stood and stumbled along the path throwing everything she could get her hands on. The letter, however, she held onto. It was as much a part of her in this moment as the cursed mark embedded in her palm. With every offending stone thrown she felt a tiny bit of pain and guilt and wrongness leave her body, but it was quickly replaced. Her grief ran deep and there was no end to it. With one last frantic swing of her arm she lost her balance and fell to her knees again. She beat the ground until her fists were cut and the snow was tainted with blood that was very much real. She no longer recognized the sounds coming out of her as human and she briefly wondered if she was even the one making them.

_Now they hunt us as well._

Aenea thought about the countless hunts she’d participated in throughout her life. Silently stalking her pray—observing its movements, its behavior, its patterns—before striking hard and fast, leaving no room for escape. She remembered the unbridled joy she felt when she got a clean kill, the whoop of laughter and claps on the back from Souren and the other hunters as they surveyed their handiwork.

Those soldiers hunted her people. She imagined her sister as the halla she cared for, pure and innocent and running terrified from certain death. She imagined the soldier feeling the same glee as his blade slid across Leena’s throat that Aenea felt when her arrow pierced a ram. She saw the soldiers standing in the carnage clapping each other on the back for all the dirty knife ears they managed to exterminate.

A snarl escaped her lips at that. For all her clan tried to live peacefully with humans this was the result? Hunted and cut down like beasts by a man who professed loyalty to her cause even as he slaughtered her people. As much as she hated the duke and every last blasted shemlen in Wycome—and oh how she hated them, she would teach them the fear of being hunted by a true predator if given the chance—the real blame was with her.

_I’ll never leave you. I’ll be strong for both of us. I’ll protect you._

That was the promise made to her little sister the night after their father’s death. It was now the biggest lie she’d ever told. Aenea did leave Leena. If she hadn’t gone to the Conclave she would have sensed the danger in Wycome, could have convinced the keeper to leave or just taken Leena and escaped. Or she could have brought Leena to the Conclave with her. But no, instead of protecting her sister Aenea left and gave the order that killed her. Now she was not only responsible for her father’s death, but the deaths of her little sister, best friend, and entire clan as well. She failed.

As that thought sunk in it smothered her like a heavy, unwelcome blanket. Her wild keening gave way to soft whimpers as she curled in on herself. She felt something wet drip onto her hands, which were now desperately grasping her chest, and it was only then Aenea realized she had been crying. The all-consuming fire and pain that ripped at her insides faded away at last, but so did all other feelings.

Aenea was numb. The cold of the snow, the moisture seeping into her leg wraps, the pain of her bruised and bloodied fists; it all faded away. She was empty, broken, her heart hollow. For the first time in her life Aenea was truly alone.

_You carry Clan Lavellan with you._

Clan Lavellan was no more.


End file.
